The Sporting Scribe's Super Bowl Spread: Chicago Style Dogs

If the Jamaican Jerk Chicken recipe I gave you earlier wasn’t enough, don’t worry. I’m on your side. All week, while you’re busy surfing the internet behind your supervisor’s back and pretending to look busy whenever he walks by your cube, I’m dreaming up a deliciously artery-shattering meal for the big game.

Nothing is easier, more delicious, and less healthy than the classic Chicago-style hot dog. Just ask Jay Cutler. Dude probably eats scores of these things on his romantic strolls through the Windy City. In fact, now that I think about it, that mysterious leg injury shouldn’t be much of a mystery at all. Can you say, “I got gout?” At any rate, enjoy.

Chicago’s Hottest Dogs

Ingredients

1 tbs. grainy mustard

2 tsp. white-wine vinegar

Coarse salt and ground pepper to taste

½ of a Vidalia onion, thinly sliced into spears

½ of a hot house cucumber

1 large tomato, sliced

1/2 cup celery leaves

2 tablespoons hot banana peppers, chopped

4 hot dogs (I’ve used all-beef and turkey dogs; both have been delicious)

4 hot dog buns, grilled or toasted

1-2 pickle spears

Dill relish to taste

Directions

1. Combine the mustard and white-wine vinegar in a medium bowl and whisk until smooth.

2. Add salt and pepper to the mixture, to your taste.

3. Add the Vidalia onion, cucumber, tomato, celery leaves, and hot peppers to the mixture. Toss.

4. Throw the dogs on the grill over medium-high heat until browned and heated through, about six minutes.

5. Serve your Chicago-style dogs on grilled buns. Top each with a sliced pickle spear and some dill relish.

The Sporting Scribe's Super Bowl Spread: Jamaican Jerk Chicken

It’s that time of year again, folks. Time to throw caution to the wind. Time to stuff ourselves full of preservatives, processed meats, cholesterols, and fats. Time to drink beer after glorious beer until our livers scream out for mercy.

 It’s time to watch some football, people.

And while our favorite athletes are out on the field of battle abusing their bodies in the name of the game, shouldn’t we also put ourselves through an equal amount of abuse? I think so. That’s why I put a lot of thought into my Super Bowl spread this year. Who cares if I’ll be the only one around to eat it? I didn’t want to share anyway.

Today, I give you the main course…Jamaican Jerk Chicken. If you don’t mind putting in a little work ahead of the big game, you’ll be picking the bones on this spicy, sweet treat come half time. Trust me, you won’t be disappointed.

Jamaica’s Best Jerk Chicken

INGREDIENTS:

1 tbs. ground allspice

1 tbs. dried thyme

1 1/2 tsp. cayenne pepper

1 1/2 tsp. freshly ground black pepper

1 1/2 tsp. ground sage

3/4 tsp. ground nutmeg

3/4 tsp. ground cinnamon

1 tbs. salt

2 tbs. garlic powder

1 tbs. sugar

1/4 cup olive oil

1/4 cup soy sauce

3/4 cup white vinegar

1/2 cup orange juice

Juice of 1 lime

2 Habanero peppers, finely chopped

1 cup chopped white onion

3 green onions, finely chopped

1 whole chicken cut in pieces trimmed of fat

DIRECTIONS:

1. Combine the allspice, thyme, cayenne pepper, black pepper, sage, nutmeg, cinnamon, salt, garlic powder and sugar in a large bowl.

2. Slowly add the olive oil, soy sauce, vinegar, orange juice, and lime juice. Stir it together with a wire whisk.

3. Add the Habanero peppers, onion, green onions, and mix well.

4. Put the chicken pieces in the mixture, cover with plastic wrap, and marinate for six to 24 hours (the longer the better).

5. Preheat an outdoor grill to medium high heat. Remove the chicken from the marinade and grill for 8 minutes on each side, or until fully cooked. Baste the chicken with the marinade every two or three minutes to keep it moist. Enjoy.

The Human Projectile: Michael Zordich

By: C.G. Morelli

 

Before a certain #20 loomed largely in the defensive back field of the Philadelphia Eagles with his tinted, black visor and his magnetism for bone-crushing hits, another human projectile filled those shoes more than adequately. He wore the Kelly green jersey with his #36 proudly stitched on the back. No, I’m not talking about Brian Westbrook. Same number, I know. I’m talking about Michael Zordich. Who, you say? Exactly.

Few remember the hard hitting safety outside of Philly. I’ve yet to determine whether this is because he played for teams throughout his career that weren’t, shall we say, playoff ready, or simply because fans of NFC East rivals have blocked out the images of total carnage that often took place when Zordich was on the field.

Or, maybe it’s just my own maniacal fixation with NFL safeties, particularly those who have donned the green and silver, that allows me to remember quite clearly the bruising, blatant-disregard-for-his-own-body type of style that made this blue collar player so endearing to me.

Zordich made a name for himself as a four year starter and a 1985 All American at Penn State, where he capped off his college career with 201 solo tackles. His nose-to-the-grindstone approach to the game and his gutsy play inside Beaver Stadium caught the attention of scouts in the Chargers organization who thought enough of Zordich to take him with the 235^th overall selection in the 1986 NFL Draft.

However, his stay in San Diego was short lived. He became a camp casualty at the end of the preseason and found himself instead clinging to the final roster spot on a hapless Jets team after being claimed off waivers. But Zordich came to play regardless of what many saw as an inferior status for an undersized football player. He built himself a reputation as being one of the heaviest hitting safeties in the game despite flying well under the radar in stints with the Jets and Cardinals.

It was in 1994 that Zordich made his way back to Pennsylvania to play safety for a struggling Eagles club. That’s where I come in.

As a young, budding Eagles fan, I could not help but be taken by a player who, on more than one occasion, hit Michael Irvin so hard that he looked more like a crumpled accordion than a Hall of Fame receiver. How could I not like a guy who seemed oblivious on a weekly basis to the trickle of blood that rolled down the bridge of his nose as he lined up and prepared to punish another unsuspecting running back who made the mistake of breaking a run into the second layer of defense? 

And perhaps some of Zordich’s most enduring moments came as an unselfish member of the special teams unit despite holding a spot as a defensive starter. How many guys do you see doing that today? To me, his willingness to throw his body around on punts and kickoffs was a testament to the scrappiness that has come to define Eagles football in the mold of special teams stalwarts like home town boy, Vince Papale.

At any rate, Zordich’s career cannot be measured by stats alone. On paper they’re not all that impressive to be quite honest. In 12 NFL seasons, he picked off 20 passes and scored four defensive touchdowns, one of which was a 58 yard fumble recovery and return against the Giants back in 1995. He recorded 588 solo tackles in his career. Ho Hum, I guess.

But the passion he left on that playing field each week was enough to account for all 11 players on his team, and I’m sure his teammates would testify to that fact.

Why We Love This Crazy Game Called Baseball

By: C.G. Morelli

It occurred to me a while back while watching an inter-league game between the Mets and Mariners (of all teams) that I really love this game. No, I mean I REALLY love this game. To those of you who are forced to listen to the incessant ravings of my maniacal, baseball-saturated brain matter wax poetic about the savage ballet that is the suicide squeeze (sorry, honey), this is no real surprise. In fact, I was quite aware of my addiction long before this random yet unforgettable game, when a chubby but loveable youngster named Felix Hernandez pitched his way to…wait a minute…this box score can’t be correct. Did Felix freakin’ Hernandez really hit a grand slam?

And that, my friends, is exactly how I realized why I love this game so much. It’s for the simple fact that on any night, in any ball park, whether there’s a match up between division rivals or division doormats, you could see something you’d never dreamed would have happened.

Of course, King Felix’s little dinger was not the most classic example of one of these amazing instances. It served as little more than a reminder. But perhaps if I set the stage I can help you relish in a few of baseball’s more magical moments.

Yes, then you’ll see where I’m coming from.

“The Catch”

The time:  September 24, 1954

The place:  Polo Grounds (Brooklyn, NY)

The situation:  Game One of the World Series between the Giants and Indians

With the score tied 2-2 in the top of the eighth inning, Vic Wertz of the Indians sent a drive to the deepest part of center field.  Giants centerfielder, Willie Mays, turned and sprinted all the way back to the fence to make an amazing over-the-shoulder catch.  Some say the ball traveled almost 450 feet before landing in his glove, but Mays wasn’t finished.  He whirled around in mid-stride and fired a bullet to second base to prevent a run from scoring.  Mays had single-handedly stopped the Indians from taking the lead.  The Giants went on to win the game in extra innings and they eventually swept the Indians to win the series.

“The Shot Heard ‘Round the World”

The time:  October 3, 1951

The place:  Polo Grounds (Brooklyn, NY)

The situation:  Playoff series to determine the pennant between the Giants and Dodgers

In just over a month, the Giants caught the Dodgers in the standings despite once trailing by 13 ½ games.  The Giants’ late push caused the two teams to finish in a tie.  To decide which team would move on to face the Yankees in the World Series, the league held a three-game playoff series. 

With the series tied a game a piece, the Dodgers built a 4-1 lead in game three that they carried into the bottom of the ninth.  It looked like the series was over.  But the Giants fought back, scoring a run and putting two more runners on base.  Then, Bobby Thomson stepped to the plate and smashed a dramatic three-run homer over the left field fence to win the game and the series.  He would forever be known for firing “the shot heard ‘round the world.”

“The Called Shot”

The time:  October 1, 1932

The place:  Wrigley Field (Chicago, IL)

The situation:  Game Three of the World Series between the Yankees and Cubs

After winning the first two games of the series in New York, Babe Ruth led his Yankees into Chicago.  He angered Chicago fans by promising that his team would sweep the series from the Cubs.  When Ruth took the field in game three, he was greeted by flying vegetables tossed at him from the stands.  Ruth responded by clobbering two homeruns in the game, one of which goes down in baseball legend.

It is said that Ruth stepped to the plate and pointed to a spot beyond the right field fence.  Then he took a mighty swing and hammered the next pitch out of the park to the exact spot where he had pointed.  The Yankees would go on to sweep the Cubs in the series, but it was Ruth’s famous “called shot” that would become one of the most storied events in baseball history.

“True Grit”

The time:  October 15, 1988

The place:  Dodger Stadium (Los Angeles, CA)

The situation:  Game One of the World Series between the Dodgers and the A’s

Kirk Gibson only had one at-bat in the 1988 World Series, but he made it count.  He was nursing multiple leg injuries and many of his teammates told reporters that the slugger could barely walk.  Dodger fans were sad to hear that he would probably not play at all in the series. 

But, in the very first game, with his team down 4-3 in the bottom of the ninth and with Hall of Fame closer Dennis Eckersley on the mound, Gibson limped out of the dugout to the surprise of everyone.  He told Dodgers manager, Tommy Lasorda, that there was one more swing left in him. 

Barely able to hold himself upright at the plate, Gibson drilled a game-winning two-run homer into the right field bleachers.  He limped around the bases amid the wild celebration of nearly 56,000 fans.  Inspired by the slugger’s incredible feat, the Dodgers went on to win the World Series over the A’s in just five games.

Every time I think of baseball, it is with the images of these crucial moments swirling through my mind. They are what define the game for me and allow me to appreciate baseball’s past, present, and future. They are what help me to never forget why I love the game so much.

So, now it’s your turn. What moments help you remember why you love baseball?

Three Finger Brown

By: C.G. Morelli

Mordecai Brown was visiting his uncle’s farm in Indiana when he was given the greatest gift he would ever receive. At the time, however, it didn’t seem like much of a gift at all. 

It was the summer of 1884 and Mordecai, only seven years old, was busy playing outside, when something happened that would completely change the course of his life. He stepped too close to a feed machine and accidentally caught his hand on the blade.  Before anything could be done, Mordecai lost most of his index finger and parts of his thumb and middle finger. It seemed like a painful burden he’d have to carry with him forever. It would later transform him into one of the greatest major league pitchers of all time.

From Weakness Comes Strength

By the time he was 20 years old, Brown was busy working in the Indiana coal mines and playing for the company baseball team on weekends. He was known as a hard worker, but only as an average third baseman whose hand gave him trouble both in the field and at the plate. Because of his childhood accident, people saw Brown as handicapped and never gave him much attention for playing the game. That is, until the regular pitcher on his company team suffered a minor injury of his own. Suddenly, Brown found himself staring opportunity right in the face. Before he knew it, he was on the mound gripping the ball tightly between his three fingers. It took him just one pitch to realize the gift he’d been given, and to know that he’d never play third base again.

“That old paw served me pretty well in its time,” Brown once said of his injured hand.  “It gave me a firmer grip on the ball, so I could spin it over the hump. It gave me a greater dip.”

Although Brown lacked a powerful fastball, his three-fingered grip allowed him to throw a variety of curves and breaking pitches that left batters speechless. Many experts credit him with throwing the very first split-finger fastball.

Three Finger Brown

After winning 50 games for his company team over the next two seasons, Brown signed a professional contract with the St. Louis Cardinals. Some of his major league teammates started calling him “Miner” Brown, because of his experiences in the coal mines, but most others referred to him simply as “Three Finger” Brown.

After only one season with St. Louis, Three Finger was traded to the Cubs. It was in Chicago where he shined. Brown became one of the few players in baseball history to pitch simultaneously both as a starter and a reliever, notching 239 wins and 48 saves in his career. He did this while posting a 2.06 ERA, and while winning 20 games six years in a row (1904-1910). Three Finger Brown eventually propelled the Cubs to a World Series Championship with a game six shutout of the Detroit Tigers in 1908.  It was the last time the Cubs won the World Series.

A Hall of Fame Battle

Three Finger Brown is perhaps best known for his legendary battles with another Hall of Fame pitcher of the time. Christy Mathewson, perhaps the most dominating pitcher in history with 373 wins and over 2,500 strikeouts, spent almost his entire career playing for the New York Giants. He was tall and lanky, and seemed to have the ability to shoot bolts of lightning from his gifted right arm. 

From 1905 to 1909, “Matty” and Three Finger faced each other a total of ten times.  Mathewson won the first meeting, out dueling Brown to a 1-0 shutout, but Three Finger went on to win the next nine meetings between the two all-time greats. In 1916, Mordecai Brown faced Christy Mathewson one last time. It was fitting that both men were pitching the final games of their legendary careers. Matty took this one, 10-8.

The Gift of Inspiration

Much of Brown’s impact as a player stems from the amazing feats he was able to accomplish on the mound, but his greatest achievement took place when he was still a young child. It was when he overcame his frightening injury and found a way to use it to benefit not only him, but the great game of baseball as well.

“I haven't space enough to tell of all the grand deeds of Brownie on and off the field,” Hall of Fame teammate Johnny Evers once said.  “(He had) Plenty of nerve, ability and willingness to work at all times and under any conditions…There was never a finer character -- charitable and friendly to his foes and ever willing to help a youngster breaking in."

'Lord, Baseball is a Worryin' Thing'

By: C.G. Morelli

As a 14 year old boy breaking his back in the Pennsylvania coal mines for just 60 cents a day, Stan Coveleski sure came a long way. The Polish Prince was such a hard worker and worked such long hours that he once said, “I got to thinking the sun only came out on Sundays.”

But the eventual Hall of Famer wouldn’t be spending much more of his life in the dark. By the time he was 17, Stan had taken a page out of the scripts of his five brothers, four of whom were involved in professional baseball at some level.

Coveleski started playing for a local team in Shamokin, PA and he quickly found his calling as a pitcher with pin point control. That the fresh faced kid they called “Covey” was so accurate on the mound was a surprise to no one. After all, he’d spent every morning of his childhood setting up tin cans on a fence post and systematically knocking them down with the fluid toss of a few stray stones.

“The plate’s a lot bigger than a tin can to throw at,” he said, “When it came to throwing a baseball, why, it was easy to pitch.”

The Polish Prince pitched only five games for the little team from Shamokin. That’s all it took for minor league scouts from the Lancaster club of the Tri State League to notice the kid’s talent. And without so much as a moment’s hesitation, Covey signed a contract that would save him from the inside of a pitch black coal mine forever.

After just two and half seasons with the club from Lancaster, Coveleski was scooped up by Connie Mack, who watched the young rookie make his first major league start in a Philadelphia Athletics uniform in 1912. The result? A three-hit shutout and the youngster’s first-ever victory. But success wouldn’t last long for young Stan.

He endured a few up and down seasons in Philadelphia and became more well known as the brother of “Giant Killer” Harry Coveleski (who had beaten the NY Giants three times in one week during the 1908 season to stifle their attempt at a pennant) than for his own performance on the mound. Stanley found himself bouncing from club to club, even back down to the minors in the Pacific Coast League. But he eventually found a home in Cleveland in 1915, and his time in the PCL would prove to be his greatest asset.

It was during his time in the PCL that Covey first witnessed a pitch that would change his career. It was the spit ball. He began developing his ability to control the pitch, and once he had it mastered, there wasn’t a thing he couldn’t make a baseball do once it left his famous right hand.

From 1915-1928, Coveleski and his devastating spitter were utterly dominant on the mound. He won 216 games, struck out 972 batters, and recorded a lifetime 2.89 ERA.

In 1920, Covey registered one of the greatest World Series performances of all time. He led the Indians to a World Championship by pitching in and winning three games. He allowed the Brooklyn Dodgers only two runs in 27 innings of work and posted a 0.67 World Series ERA, a record that still stands today.

Coveleski endured even after Major League Baseball banned the use of the spitball after the 1920 season. He and 16 other established spitball pitchers were grandfathered in as having permission to continue throwing the pitch. This designation was pivotal in Covey’s career, allowing him to continue his dominance for another eight seasons, five of which he recorded 20 wins or more.

Stan Coveleski was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1969 by the veteran’s committee. Even after an illustrious career, he never lost sight of the dark mornings he spent tossing stones at tin cans and enjoying the relative simplicity of a coal miner’s life that contrasted starkly with the every day pressures of playing professional baseball.

“It’s tomorrow that counts (in baseball),” he said after retirement, “So you worry all the time. It never ends. Lord, baseball is a worrying thing.”